His wife was silent. Though, indeed, she could have found something to say to that as well.
“We’re not exactly rich enough to waste things,” said the priest. “And you know yourself we have to pay for the eggs. One day the cat was eating an omelette.”
“Only a bit that was left from dinner. But you’re all unreasonable, and that’s the truth; you ought to see a doctor for that temper of yours.”
“I’ve seen you stand holding the cat and pushing a bowl of milk under its nose. And you let the maids see it too. They laugh at you behind your back.”
“They don’t. It’s only you that are always nasty and ill-tempered.”
The end of it was that the priest went back to his study, and his wife was left in peace.
At breakfast next morning no one could see from her looks that she had been suffering and wretched. All her trouble seemed charmed away, and not a memory of their quarrel left. Her easy, changeable nature stood her in good stead, and helped to make her life endurable. The priest was touched once more. After all, he might as well have held his peace about these household matters; the new housekeeper would be coming soon, and should be on her way already.
“I’m sorry you’ll hardly be able to get those shoes just yet,” he said.
“No, no,” was all she said.
“Enok’s offering will have to be returned; the money was stolen.”